those Heralds that Herald-Chronicler Myste felt could translate them into more modern terms. There had been a few clearly written in Tayledras, which had given Darkwind a bit of a shock, and a couple in no language either could identify. Darkwind was planning to take those to Kerowyn, once he determined if there was anything worth their time in the Tayledras books.
Both of them were running themselves ragged. Her day had started before dawn, and it would last long past midnight. There just weren't enough hours; the peace of the Palace was so deceptive. Even with the violent weather plaguing them, it didn't seem as if they were about to be invaded. In fact, things weren't really much different than they had been when she'd left. It was easy to be fooled into thinking there was nothing wrong here, but Ancar was planning something, she knew it....
For that matter, he might well be doing something, right this very minute. With all those storms on the borders, the relay-towers were useless except when the weather cleared a bit. At least she had a barrier over Haven now, and Firesong would return to the Heartstone when he was done with Treyvan's students, and use her shield as a model to set other protections in place, as many as he had time and strength for.
And tomorrow, before dawn, it would all begin again.
That was why Gwena was not scolding her for riding the short distance to the salle. Not when riding was quicker than walking, and not as exhausting as running.
She slid off Gwena's back at the door to Kerowyn's domain, and hit the ground at a trot. The salle, a huge, wooden building, with clerestory windows and mirrors on two of the walls, was full of trainees being supervised by Jeri, Kero's assistant, and a Herald who had been hand-picked and personally trained by Alberich, the absent Weaponsmaster. Jeri looked up when she caught Elspeth's reflection in a mirror, nodded at her, and pointed with her chin toward Kero's office, all without missing a command to her line of young, clumsy sword wielders.
Elspeth skirted past the youngsters in their worn practice armor, moving along the wall with the benches between her and them, and avoiding the piles of practice gear strewn in her path. She tapped on Kero's door at the other end of the room, using her own code without thinking twice about it.
It was a good thing she did. The door opened a mere crack, just wide enough for an arm in brown leather to snake out, grab her by the wrist, and pull her inside.
As soon as she cleared the doorway, the reason for Kero's action was obvious. Darkwind was with her, sitting cross-legged in the corner, but so was another man, a stranger, filthy and travel-stained, dressed like a peddler. He had half-risen from his stool at Elspeth's entrance, taking a wary stance and perfectly ready to defend himself.
One of Kero's spies - probably one of her old mercenary company, the Skybolts. That was the only thing he could be. Her heart sank. The man would not be here unless he had some word on Ancar, and from his grim expression, it was probably more trouble.
'I'm glad you're here,' Kero said, with a nod to the stranger, and a quick hand-sign Elspeth recognized as being the Skybolts' hand-language for 'all clear.' He sank back down onto his stool again, and picked up a towel from a pile on the floor next to him. 'You and Darkwind know the most about Falcon's Breath, and Ragges here actually managed to see him. He's been describing the man to Darkwind. I want you both to hear what he has to say.'
'Bright feather, I fear it really is Falconsbane,' Darkwind added. 'Ragges has described him perfectly; it could be no other.'
Elspeth sat down quickly on another stool, with an explosive sigh. After twice thinking Falconsbane was gone for good, then hearing he had escaped yet again, her reaction to hearing this confirmation that he lived was, oddly enough, simple exhaustion. 'Damn. Damn, damn, damn. I didn't really think there was any chance of a mistake. I wish that Beast would just die.'
'Don't we all,' Kero said, leaning up against the door with her ear near enough the crack that she would be able to hear anyone approaching on the other side. 'Well, go on, Ragges. Anything you know for a fact could be more important than either of us would guess.'
Bleak depression settled over Elspeth as the spy continued his report.
'This Falconsbane is not only advising Ancar, he seems to be very high up in Ancar's mage-ranks,' the stranger said, wiping his face vigorously with a towel. As he rubbed, Elspeth realized that what she had taken for dirt and the man's own swarthy complexion was actually makeup or dye. Underneath it he was far paler than he looked. 'Rumor had it, literally just as I left, that he is claiming he has taken down some kind of protective barrier that keeps magic out of Valdemar. There were so many rumors that war was at hand that I fled the capital, hoping to outrun any army Ancar might mount.'
Darkwind looked sardonic. 'He would claim anything he thought he could convince folk of,' was all the Hawkbrother said, his lips twisted with distaste.
'Well, Hulda is not long for her spot of 'favorite mage' if she can't find a way to counter his influence,' Ragges told them, picking off bits of hair and things that counterfeited moles perfectly, which had been glued to his cheeks. 'At the moment his star is rising pretty quickly. But there's another player in this little game now, and I have no idea what he's about. There's a new envoy at Ancar's court, wearing badges and livery from some lord I don't recognize. And mind, most of the allies Ancar picked up in the beginning have pretty well deserted him by now, so whoever sent this lad must be fairly certain there's no way that Ancar can turn on them.' He fished a bit of pencil and a scrap of paper out of his pocket and made a quick sketch. 'This is the badge, and the man seems to be great friends with Hulda. She does her best not to be seen coming and going, but she spends a great deal of time in his suite. She's so busy watching for spies from her rivals she never noticed me.'
